


Strange Medicine

by megyal



Series: Strange Medicine [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-12
Updated: 2008-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:48:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(It's 16 candles 'verse AU). Patrick is kidnapped for a cure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday fic for t_boo@LJ.

  
**_June 26_ **  
_Pete's back; Andy went and got him out of lockup. I don't want to think about what they did to those cops to get them out. I know they were vampires, but they were cops. I guess my sense of civic duty is still pretty much intact, which is probably a dangerous state of mind to have right now. They were vampires, they were vampires, no matter what uniform they were wearing. Have to keep that straight. I got a few scrapes and a bite in that last fight, but with the formula in my system, I wasn't turned. Sheer luck, you know? The chemistry nerd in me, I thank him for existing._

_I need to adjust the levels of allicin in Pete's formula. He's saying the thirst comes back too early. And too strong. Andy'll get the stuff I need; I have to remember to give him a list so he can go out tonight._

**_June 30_ **  
_It's been really quiet._

**_Aug 3_ **  
_The new formula is pretty much successful. Pete was bitching about the taste. I told him beggars can't be fucking choosers. He laughed and I realised that it was the first time in a long time that he's laughed like that. Also, he looks really relaxed, or as relaxed as someone like Pete can look; maybe it's because we haven't had any kind of confrontation for awhile now; the Agency that hires us hasn't sent any slay contracts, which is odd. Usually, we get an eradication order every week. The Agency got a new Director, straight from the White House, last I heard, so maybe this dude is uncomfortable with a vampire in our unit. Hey, when he sees our kill-rate, he'll send up the contracts, no big deal. Maybe he's been trying Gerard's unit. Gerard's guys are pretty good, they got this dude named Iero that's pretty much the shit with the sharp-shooting, he can hit a dime from about four miles away (that's what Joe said, but everybody knows that Joe is the King of Exaggeration), but our unit is pretty much at the top of the heap. They'll come back to us, they always do._

**_Aug 7_ **  
_Pete said there was this weird scent outside when he slipped out on a quick patrol. He couldn't tell me what it was. Said it was a scent he knew, but he has the worst nose ever on a vampire. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he kept saying, "I think it's a wild dog, man. Hyena, maybe?" I don't know what the fuck that might mean, I don't even think Pete has even seen a hyena before, much less ever smelled one. I put honey in Pete's new formula, to sweeten it a bit. He likes it. I shouldn't have done it, now he's going to want honey all the time, that asshole._

_Oh yeah, weirdest thing: when Andy and I went to the supermarket to get the honey and some more supplies, we saw a vamp as we got to the car. Andy went all into defensive-mode while I was trying to take the safety from the UV-rifle and the vamp just kind of... staggered away from us. Huge vamp too, looked like he was a bodybuilder in his living years, but he just looked kinda off. Don't get me wrong, all vampires are really pale, but his skin looked wrong. Like it was slipping off his face. And he didn't even hiss at us, he just went on his way._

_I think Andy was really disappointed at the lack of a fight._

**_Aug 9_ **  
_I wish Pete would stop harping about that dog-smell. Now he wants another dog to keep in the warehouse. I don't want any damned dog in here. Last time we had a dog, Beckett's gang kidnapped it. They kidnapped our dog, just because it was ours and we liked it. They killed it and left it nearly at our doorstep. They couldn't come inside the building, I got so many lasers set up around this place, they'd be sliced to about six hundred pieces, but it was still pretty close. Shit, Beckett is the most fucking petty bloodsucker on the planet, I swear. McCoy doesn't do shit like that, but Beckett will do things to mess with your brain, just because he wants to. The Agency has a Complete Eradication Notice on his head; any unit that takes him down gets the payoff. I think McCoy was put on that list too, I have to check it. Trouble with these higher-level vampires, they are so hard to take down. They're really old, so they have all kinds of tricks up their sleeves. Lower levels, the ones that just got turned, they're pretty easy to eradicate. Last major contract we got from the Agency, there was a pretty big hive of young vamps downtown. Pete and Andy went through that one in one night; the whole hive had gone feral._

_We got paid the very next day. The lowers, they're pretty mindless until they have a good amount of fresh blood in their system; we had a fucking awful time when Pete was just turned. I hated when we had to keep him tied up while I got the formula balanced out right. Highers like Beckett and McCoy, they're so annoyingly fucking clever, it's a real pain in the ass._

_Government's trying to strike a deal with the highers; give them permission to keep familiars, as much as they want, so they don't go around turning anybody just like that. I scoff at this. Scoff, I say. Highers are pretty set in their ways and it's going to be a long time, and a lot of stupid people wandering around when they shouldn't be, and a lot of losses for the vamps before they agree to something like that._

_A lot. So I guess hunting season is always open for guys like us._

**_Aug 15_ **  
_List: honey, toilet paper, paper towels, fruits/vegetables (no broccoli), bath stuff (soap, toothpaste, new toothbrush for_

Pete snapped the large diary shut with a frown. Patrick's slanted handwriting simply stopped in the middle of his mundane shopping list, as if he had gotten up to do something and forgot to come back to finish it. That was how Patrick did things sometimes, leaving stuff half-finished while his attention focused elsewhere. Pete had been bemused when it had been Andy pushing away the cover of the crypt this evening, until Andy had said tightly, "Patrick's gone."

"The fuck you mean, gone?" Pete had demanded as he sat up, staring at Andy's shadowed eyes.

"He went outside to check the lasers and we heard him shouting, and then--"

" _Fuck_ , Andy," Pete had snapped, shoving him away without checking his strength, and Andy had flown back to hit the wall. Pete had felt really remorseful for about three seconds, until one of Andy's knives had hit the upright cover beside his head. Pete blinked at the quivering handle, which was about an inch away from his face and then turned slowly to stare at Andy's face, which continued to have its calm cast; his eyes, however, were blazing.

"Do that again, and I won't miss next time." Andy breathed deep and struggled up from the ground. "I know you're upset and shit, but you do that again, and I'll take your fucking head off."

Pete had gaped at him as he walked over and pulled out the knife, placing it back in its sheath, his mouth a tight line as he held out his hand for Pete to take. Pete hesitated and then took it, looking closely into Andy's face. He was pissed off... and very worried.

Now, they were outside and Pete picked up on the scent of many vampires, layered all over the place. _Here_ was Patrick's particular comforting smell, and the lasers here had been turned off, probably when he was doing a systems check at dusk. They had snatched him at fucking _dusk_. They must have been pretty desperate about something to have come out while there was still a hint of sunlight. Pete inhaled and tightened his lips. He could tell that Patrick had been alive when they took him.

That wasn't very comforting at all.

"Pete." Joe's voice came out of the small intercom that was beside the steel front door. "I got something in one of my traps."

"Which one?" Pete growled as the sound of Andy's sword being drawn rang out in the air.

"One of the back ones. It's big, and it's warm. Not a vampire. I'm turning on the floodlights."

Pete tossed the diary onto the front steps and darted around the back of the building, hearing Andy's footsteps close behind. Maybe it was a human who had been rolling with the vamps that had taken Patrick. Maybe he could get a little information... and maybe he could get a _lot_ of information if he let Andy and his blades at whoever it was. He pulled up at the sight of a steel-cage near a far corner of the back wall, the flood-lights trained on it.

God, the smell of wolf was unbearably strong. Pete should have known that particular scent anywhere, which showed how lame his sense of smell was, for a vampire. Patrick always said so, but Pete had chosen to ignore him.

"Mixon, the fuck are you doing here?" Andy snapped and sheathed his blades irritably.

"Andy! Grumpy-bear, as usual," Matt noted with his typical wide grin, his arms folded across his chest. "I come all the way to see you and I had to get myself in a fucking trap to get you out here--"

"You're not the reason," Andy said shortly and Pete noticed the sharp amusement in Matt's eyes grow hard. "We got a bigger problem on our hands than a roaming, stupid werewolf."

"Hmm." Mixon tilted his head. Pete watched his nostrils flare delicately. Mixon had been a part of Pete's unit, at the very start, an asset because of his strength, speed, and invulnerability to vampire bites; one day, he just up and went east. Andy's face had been stonier than usual for a good month or two after that and Patrick had had to stop more than a few sparring sessions between him and Pete, fights that had gotten dangerously serious and ended with Andy stalking off to his own room. "You got a missing chemist."

"We got a missing _Patrick_ ," Andy said coldly. "Not that you'd care. Come on, Pete, we're hunting."

"Finally," Pete breathed, eager to get something done. He had some vampires to tear apart for daring to take Patrick. He carefully tried not to think about what he might do if they did anything to hurt him. "Let's go."

"See, I remember having a better sense of smell than anyone else in this town," Matt said almost conversationally, staring at his fingernails, a smile playing around his full mouth. Pete, who had been throwing Matt dark looks over his shoulder even as he was walking away a few steps behind Andy, turned his head to see the swordsman's shoulders tense as they halted. "I can even tell you what type of shoes they were wearing, y'know? Pete can't track like I can. Or as fast."

" _Pete_ didn't leave us when we needed him," Andy said shortly and started to walk off again.

"Andy, we're going to need him _now_ , don't be an asshole," Joe's voice came over the intercom. Andy looked as if he was going to whip out his sword and hack the small speaker-box to pieces. "I'm taking down the trap, you're being a dick. Jesus."

Andy was probably cursing at the intercom, but his voice was lost under the metallic clanks of the trap dismantling itself. Mixon stretched luxuriously, as if he had been trapped inside a space the size of a shoe-box and gave them another huge grin. Despite his worry and the simmering annoyed rage emanating from Andy beside him, Pete returned his grin, letting his sharp teeth lengthen.

"Hey, it's gonna be like old times," Mixon said with his growly laugh. He raised his head a little and sniffed a little. "Are my party people ready?"

"Just track," Andy said in a low, icy tone. "And leave the rest to us."

 

* * *

Patrick deeply regretted the fact that he wasn't the kind of person that could speak at least six languages. Or even ten. It was getting a little tiring to be calling oneself "stupid asshole" in English alone. Dusk, fucking _dusk_ , vampires weren't supposed to be moving around at dusk. Even Pete broke out into a scaly sort of painful rash if he went out before the sun went down completely, and he had a special concoction just for that.

He wriggled and pulled against the coils of rope wrapped around his wrists, sighing as they scraped against his skin. He had been pulled from right out of the dusty yard, yelling for Andy and Joe as cold hands wrapped around him and carried like a small doll as his captors leapt over the tall concrete wall and stuffed him into a large vehicle, maybe an armoured truck, he couldn't really tell. He heard Joe shouting and there had been a series of thumps against the moving vehicle, a barrage of weapons from Andy, but they were moving too fast.

Every minute they sped away from his unit, Patrick's heart sank a little further towards his shoes, but tried to keep calm. They all knew the rules: no man alone. Andy probably force Pete to wake up and then they'd come after him.

They drove for a very long time. At first, Patrick had struggled and would lunge ever so often, trying to reach for the handle of the door; but firm hands would pull him back and the vampires on either side of him sat as impassive as boulders. Patrick had felt sweat drip down his back, even though the night was cool and he had on a thin t-shirt. Why didn't they turn him? Why hadn't any of them given him a hard, painful bite?

He had actually dozed off at one point, his body's way of trying to shut down completely so that he wouldn't have to deal with that shit right then, and had woken with a start, shocked that he had been so close to falling asleep in the midst of enemy vampires.

What was even more confusing was that they hadn't done anything to him at all. Not even a scratch. Seriously, that rattled Patrick more than anything else.

The drive went on for a long time and Patrick's mind was locking into a circle of worry, even though he tried to keep his face very calm. They'd probably picked up his distress anyway, almost tasting his emotions swirling just under the surface of his skin with every beat of his heart; yet, the silence from them was palpable. He closed his eyes, and wondered how soon he would die.

The tilting motion of the vehicle indicated that they were going up a very steep slope, and there was the crunching noise of gravel underneath the wheels of the car. Patrick opened his eyes just as the doors were opened very quickly and the vampires hopped out.

"What, wait, what do you--" Patrick was hauled out, but not too roughly. He had been pulled into a low, rambling house, wide windows facing an amazing view of the brightly lit city, but that was all he could notice before being dragged inside, across an interior courtyard, past a kitchen where a small army of familiars gaped out at him as they passed hurriedly, and down a narrow staircase to the basement of the house, where he was trussed up quite well in a straight-backed wooden chair and left alone for a long while.

This was the point where he began to lament his complete lack of linguistic skills.

"Where is he?" a raspy voice came from the top of the stairs and there was a low mutter of conversation. "Oh, you didn't actually tie him up. Tell me you didn't tie him up. Fuck, man, you _did_. That ain't exactly a good example of the old welcome wagon, I give you that."

Someone came down the stairs at a quick rate, the basement lights buzzing to life. Patrick squinted in the sudden brightness of the room and blinked up at the tall frame looming over him. It was McCoy, one of the few higher vamps who looked as if he was just some normal guy on the street, sporting jeans, t-shirt and a jacket. Most of them, like Beckett or Urie, dressed as if they were going to some tea-party. Or maybe it was Halloween all the time for them.

"Hey, now," McCoy said casually, as if he and Patrick met up for drinks every Friday or so. He had on a pair of thick-framed black glasses, similar to Patrick's; an affectation if Patrick ever saw one, because vampires had great vision. His dark eyes were cool and assessing, and Patrick stared at the round black circles in the lobes of his ears. He couldn't remember the name for that kind of piercing; Pete had wanted to get one. "How are you, Stump?" He went around behind Patrick's chair. "I'm going to pull these ropes, my friend, and you're not going to bolt, or try and take me down. You do that, you die. Just warning you."

"Okay." Patrick wished he could say something mocking like Pete, or funny like Joe, or... or something outlining the precise way he was going to slice this vampire to a million slivers, like Andy, but he was just the guy that mixed the formulas together and made sure the guns didn't stick.

The rope slid from his hands and Patrick brought them around slowly, rubbing the feeling back into his wrists. McCoy came around again, snapping his fingers impatiently, frowning as he stared up the narrow stairwell. Another vampire sped down with a chair, placing it in front of Patrick and stepping back as McCoy sank into it, folding one long leg over the other. He gave Patrick a mirthless smile, barely displaying the pointed edges of his biting teeth.

Patrick looked away, staring at the layout of the basement. It was set up very much like his lab at home: tall cabinets with glass windows, a long counter running along nearly all the walls, a center island that barely left any walking room at its ends, it was that long. Bright and gleaming, Patrick had a suspicion that it had all been bought and installed just before he had been brought here.

"What do you want, McCoy?" he blurted suddenly and McCoy paused in the middle of having his cigarette lit, his gaze heavy on Patrick's face. Patrick glanced back and snapped his gaze away again, just as quickly. It wouldn't do to be caught under that hypnotic spell that a vampire of McCoy's level seemed to maintain. "If you're going to kill me, better do it before Pete gets here." Brave thing to say; pity his voice shook a little as he said it.

"Tell you what, little man," McCoy said, grey smoke curling lazily from between his lips; Patrick looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "I give you a promise now. Listening? Good. If you do something for me, I and all of mine will never harass you. Ever again."

"What?" Patrick stared at him. "Wait, you'd leave us alone? Seriously? I mean, that would be a little awesome. I mean, you could, uh, get yourself put on the government probationary list, they have one now, and you'd just keep your familiars and not attack random humans. Just a thought."

McCoy's stare was withering. "You ain't listening, Red," he said and Patrick wished his hair was hidden properly underneath his hat. " _You_. This is between you and me, the rest of your little gang is still fair game for me, dig? 'Sides, it's fun to fuck around with them."

Patrick didn't answer at all, just blinked at McCoy, who nodded and grinned as if they had signed on the dotted line. "Come on, little man," he said, rising up out of his seat and strolling over to a door set at the far end of the basement. He opened it, letting in the sound of crickets singing to the stars. Patrick got up slowly, wincing at the prickly cramp in his right leg and hobbled over warily. McCoy pushed the door open so that Patrick could see the large cage built around the entry of the doorway, jutting out into a dusty back-yard.

"Look," the tall vampire said and Patrick peered, trying to see as much as he could without going too close to McCoy. Beyond the strange cage, people were milling aimlessly about. Not just people, Patrick realised, flinching as some sort of skirmish began and snarling began; but it was half-hearted at best and over in a few moments, and they went back to walking aimlessly back and forth. Patrick exhaled slowly and they all turned and gazed at him, their eyes dead. Usually, even a lower vampire, one just turned, had some sort of aware light in their eyes. These beings were simply not there at all.

"See, this is what happens when vampires get really sick," McCoy said in a calm voice. He stood his ground as the vampires came close to the metal cage, reaching in slowly towards Patrick, fingers clenching. "Hey, Red. Red, look at me."

Patrick tore his eyes away from the strangely compelling motion of their pale hands and cleared his throat. "Don't call me Red. What... what's the matter with them?"

"Virus," McCoy said darkly, and shifted away as one of the grasping hands came too close. "We're undead already, right? This little bug here makes us go all the way. Comes and goes, like chicken pox, but this is a pretty bad case."

" _Chicken pox_?" Patrick blinked up at McCoy, who was leaning against the wall near the door. He glanced away, back to the zombie-like vampires, and was shocked to see a small girl standing amidst the crowd, right against the cage. Her eyes were large in her round face as she held a stuffed bear in a loose grip. McCoy followed his gaze and made a small sound in the back of his throat, going right outside into the protected area of the caged-in doorway.

"Hey," he said softly, hunkering down to be on eye level with the child and Patrick stared. He didn't know vamps could do _tender_. "Hey, bunny. It's your Uncle Travie."

The little girl did not move. McCoy batted away the hands that reached to him, motioning to the little girl. Her eyes were fixed on his face, but still she made no attempt to reach out to him.

"That… she's a vampire?" Patrick choked out. "You fuckers turn _kids_?"

"Get over yourself, Red," McCoy snarled, straightening up and stepping menacingly towards Patrick. "She's my great-niece. _Born_ a vampire, fuck you."

Patrick could literally feel his eyes get big in his head as he stepped back, trying to get away from McCoy's impressive looming skills. "I didn't know," he said as steadily as he dared, flinching as the edge of the center-island jabbed him in the back. "I didn't know vampires could be born."

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't." McCoy stopped and breathed out deeply. "You just eradicate us. You wouldn't know that _vermin_ like us, we actually have family and shit." He turned his head and stared at his niece. "She's gonna grow normal. Not have the allergy to sunlight and thirst for blood and all that sweet jazz. But she's still got our blood and she's still vulnerable." His gaze slid back to Patrick, watching him out of the corner of his eye. "This is where you come in, Red."

"Me?" Patrick drew his brows together, bemused.

"You. You got your pet vampire all tame, mixing up special cocktails for him. I got everything you need right here and I can get more. You do this for me, you get on my special Christmas list, the one where I send you cards instead of ripping your throat out."

Patrick swallowed. "And… ok, if I say no?"

The smile that crept over McCoy's face was slow and desperate as he turned to face Patrick fully. "You know what? Go ahead, little man, tell me no. I always wanted to see what would happen if I drain every last drop of blood out of a body." His eyes bored into Patrick's. "Tell me no."

"Right. Yeah. I have to say, you have really persuasive personality," Patrick said lamely. McCoy's eyebrows shot up, as if he had fully expected Patrick to refuse. He looked as if he wanted to smile as well, the corners of his mouth twitching. Patrick looked away. "I need blood samples."

McCoy strode towards a metal locker, opening a door and sliding out a shelf. Cold air curled away to reveal rows of labelled vials, all filled with the distinctly pale vampire blood.

"Okay," Patrick said, and closed his eyes briefly as he exhaled. He opened his eyes, seeing a hesitant hope rise in McCoy's face. "You need to get me some stuff. Let's go."

 

* * *

"Hey, why are we stopping?" Matt pulled his head back inside the car, wiping at his watering eyes. "The scent is still strong, why--"

"We're in Gerard's jurisdiction," Joe informed him as he pulled over, reaching for his phone and dialling quickly. "Gotta tell him we're passing through."

"What?" Matt stared at Joe for a moment, before turning his disbelieving gaze to Andy and Pete in the back seat as Joe spoke on his phone. Andy was staring out the window, studiously not looking in Matt's direction. "You're kidding me. _Jurisdictions_?"

"Yeah, we keep track better that way," Pete said with a quick, nervous shrug. He looked at his short nails and frowned, bringing a hand to his mouth to bite at a nail. "The Agency has it all mapped out."

"Wow, when I was here, we just went out and got our eradication going on," Matt said with a wry smile.

"That was a long time ago," Andy said, rolling his shoulders impatiently. "That's just the way it is now. We deal with it."

"Here's Bob and Frankie." Joe popped out of the car like a jack-in-the-box, grinning as two men rounded the corner of a menacing brick building and made their way towards them. The smaller man had a long, slim gun strapped to his back, and Joe was making happy noises over it. "Holy shit, look at this thing! It's taller than you, Iero, oh man."

"Get fucked," Frankie said with a huge friendly grin. Bob stood beside him, his arms folded. "The modifications that your resident genius put on, they're pretty awesome. Hey… where's Patrick, anyway?"

"Vamps took him," Andy said, stepping close to Bob, and giving him a serious nod. Matt stared at the two of them and frowned a little as Frankie's face creased in worry.

"Took him," Bob rumbled contemplatively, and gave Pete a long distrustful stare as he hung out of the car's back window. Pete gave him a sour glance in return. "Lowers?"

"Highers," Matt put in helpfully and smiled as Frankie and Bob finally looked in his direction. "I can smell the difference."

"Werewolf," Andy explained at Bob's questioning expression. Bob looked disapproving, while Frankie was simply delighted.

"Hey! That's cool, I used to live near a pack. What did I eat for breakfast this morning?"

"Pizza, extra-cheese," Matt said promptly, grinning as Frankie's peals of laughter broke through the night. "And you had a Diet thing, I think it was Pepsi."

"Yeah, now that we've gotten all that out of the way," Andy said tightly, identical severe expressions on both his and Bob's face. "We need clearance."

"You got it, man. I don't know why you even bother with the formality all the time." Frankie tugged a little on the thick straps crossing his chest, growing meditative. "You guys notice anything funny? About the vampires. They've been all… _slow_."

"We're guessing they're just trying to be all strange and sly for some reason, being vampires and all," Bob put in. He glanced at Pete, lip curling slightly. "No offense."

"None taken," Pete said, with his hugest, most insincere grin. Bob grunted at the sight of the long canines and turned away with a jerk of his head to Frankie, who winked at them before scrambling after Bob, the both of them disappearing into the shadows of nearby alley. "Asshole," he grumbled.

"Come on, we got clearance," Joe said in a soothing tone, and Pete's eyes lost their angry, distressed sheen. "Let's go get our genius back. Matt… he was okay, right? Based on what you picked up last?"

"Alive and anxious, but not too frantic," Matt replied softly, and then went around to hold open Andy's door, circling one brown hand chivalrously. Andy ignored him and went to the front passenger seat, slamming the door and folded his arms while Joe convinced the engine to turn over.

"I was hoping he'd do that," Matt confided cheerily to Pete as he took Andy's place. "Now I can get all comfy in his scent while I track Patrick's." He smiled darkly as Andy's scandalised face snapped around to him, and stuck his head out the window, inhaling deeply as they drove into the dark.

 

* * *

Patrick's body was moving almost without his brain paying attention, going through the tests and checks with quick, efficient movements. He peered at a few sample-slides through a powerful microscope, and pursed his lips. It was like a virus within a virus; very interesting.

"Any luck, Red?" McCoy was sitting on a stool in the corner, not smoking as Patrick had commanded. It was weird having someone in the lab with him. Usually, Pete would leave him alone, bored to tears by Patrick's enthusiastic ramblings. Joe would only invade his space when they were upgrading the projectiles, or maybe help with constructing weapons for other units; Andy's disdain for anything without sharp edges prevented him from coming within twenty feet of Patrick's lab. It was okay, Patrick supposed, not having anyone bother him while he was working… but it got a little lonely sometimes.

He sighed. "Could you not call me Red? I'm not even a redhead. I'm… like, strawberry blond. Or something."

"What, that was on the hair-dye box you got, Red?" McCoy said mockingly. "Strawberry blond. Oh, wow."

Patrick ignored his snickers and gazed into space, balancing compounds in his head. From even before he'd started working, he'd had the base quite clear in his mind. It was in reality pretty simple; he could develop an energised version of Pete's formula, constructing it to suppress certain aspects of the viral nature of vampirism, and pinpointing the secondary, new virus as its foundation was weakened. Sometimes, he wished he had a complete cure for the vampirism, but it was very elusive.

"You're good at that," McCoy said contemplatively. Patrick shot him a quick glance. "Where'd you pick all that shit up?"

Patrick tightened his lips. "My parents. My dad was a chemist. My mother taught human biology."

"So you decided to follow in their footsteps."

Patrick shrugged, carefully watching liquid move along glass pipes. "No. Wanted to play drums in a band."

McCoy laughed out loud at this, the sound rough and raspy. Patrick eyed the levels in his beakers, and then made quick notes on a long notepad near his elbow. Silence reigned once more, and Patrick erased a line of calculations quickly, making a pleased hum as it balanced out the way he wanted. He was getting lost in his work, reaching that plateau where his brain was happily dancing around concepts, when McCoy spoke up again.

"What’s your name?"

Patrick looked up, staring at McCoy's pensive face. McCoy looked uncomfortable.

"You _know_ my name."

"Yeah, but. I know your last name. They call you the Genius on the street--"

" _What_?"

"-- and I call you Red, now. But your first name. What is it?"

Patrick, still stunned over the part about the Genius, muttered his first name. McCoy nodded, twisting his mouth.

"Travis," he offered, staring at a stack of clean beakers. "Higher vampire, at your service."

"Wish I could say it was a pleasure." Patrick watched as Travis twitched his shoulders in a careless shrug.

"Yeah, I got it. I bet you think that we highers go around turning people on a whim. We don't. Except for Beckett, he just does it for fun. He's an asshole, but he's kinda pretty, so we like to keep him around."

This surprised an unwilling grin out of Patrick, and Travis actually smiled back, before growing earnest again.

"See, we're highers. We got better things to do with our time."

"Like what?"

"Play around on the stock market," Travis said, very seriously. "It's mostly lowers that turn others. They're a different breed nowadays. Like they can't help it, that's just how they have to live. We can choose not to. Your government has this fancy list, a whole plan for us to keep familiars and not turn people. Thing is, we already do. You control the new ones more, your problem gets solved."

"Oh, sure." Patrick swirled some liquid in a wide-bottomed glass flask. "So, all you highers are super noble and don't go around fighting each other, and getting all the newly turned ones thirsty for more blood. Gotcha."

"Exactly," Travis said dryly. "And all you Slayers are more than just government puppets, used to murder off a whole set of people because they're different. We fight each other for turf, Red, and we get into skirmishes with lowers because they overstep their boundaries. If your government would give us a little more room to breathe, we'd have it all under control."

"Somehow, I doubt that." Patrick dipped a strip of litmus paper into another sample, and frowned a little at the result.

"Think what you like, Red," Travis said right at his ear. Patrick startled, and a beaker began its fall from out of his loosened grip. Travis reached around him with that eerie speed vampires had, catching it and placing it very carefully on the counter. "You go on and think what you like."

Patrick breathed shallowly as he felt Travis' mouth press against the pulse in his neck. He gripped onto the edge of the counter-top, feeling Travis' body mould against his; he was tall and lean and surprisingly warm, his arms bracketed around Patrick as he leaned forward, pressing Patrick's far shorter frame against the counter-top.

"Hmm." Travis hummed against his throat, and licked it slowly. Patrick's breathing became even shallower, bare gasps. "You smell good. Anyone ever ask you to be their familiar?" His voice had dropped down to a smoky, seductive coil, and Patrick immediately began to do long division in his head. Pete sometimes would use _that_ tone on him, to get Patrick to do what he wanted, which usually involved dangerous and stupid activities. Thanks to Pete's shenanigans, Patrick had discovered he was susceptible to hypnotic suggestion and had tried to figure ways to distract his mind. From the way he shivered when McCoy's mouth brushed against his skin, all his carefully constructed mental shields were for naught.

 _Shit_.

"All this pale skin," Travis murmured, and pushed his hips forward experimentally. Patrick gripped the edge the cold surface with sweaty fingers and bit back a shockingly willing moan, as he just barely prevented himself from arching back. Fuck, this shouldn't be happening. Travis chuckled, moving to trace a line across the back of Patrick's neck with his tongue, nipping at the lobe of Patrick's other ear when he got to it. "I bet you'd be amazing."

"No," Patrick groaned weakly, feeling Travis' big hands pluck at the hem of his shirt, pulling up the material slowly.

"No? No, you wouldn't be amazing? That pet vampire you have, he never wanted you like this?"

"He's not my pet." Patrick swallowed, and released his hold on the counter-top with an effort. He reached down and put his hands on Travis', surprised when their fingers twined together. He let them stay for just a few beats and then held them away from his body. "Let me finish this, and you can let me leave."

"I'll let you finish." Travis moved away as fast as he had approached in the first place, leaving Patrick feeling strangely cold. "And maybe I'll let you leave. Maybe."

Travis smiled serenely as Patrick's face went red and he went back to work as quickly as he could.

 

* * *

"I'm amazing," Matt said as the car idled at the foot of a steep hill; they all gazed up at the regal houses dotting the slopes, lights blazing from a few of large windows. A large, ornate gate stood at the start of the road that led up this hill, delicately gleaming in the light of the half-moon. "I mean, I should get a medal. That wasn't easy tracking at all, my good friends."

"It was easy enough for a werewolf," Andy said dismissively, pulling on a pair of fingerless gloves. "Ready, Pete? Mixon, you stay here with Joe, keep watch."

"But--"

"You'll get in our way."

"I'm not going to stay behind like some bad little puppy," Matt argued. "That's not my style, baby, you know--"

"Don't call me baby, dickhead," Andy hissed furiously and they all recoiled at the anger blazing in his eyes. He was clenching a sword in one hand and a long, sturdy knife in the other, holding them in a crossed defensive stance. Joe gingerly nudged the point of the knife away from the vicinity of his crotch. "You don't get to call me that anymore."

"Why do you always make everything so fucking difficult?" Matt threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. "No wonder I left in the first place! You're a fucking pain, Hurley, you know that?"

"Can we get to the relationship issues later?" Pete pleaded. "I know you guys are going to fuck each other brainless when we get back, and that's cool, I totally dig the love-hate thing, but seriously. I just want to get my best friend safely home."

"We all go," Joe decided firmly. "We'll go through this tall-ass gate here, beat the shit out of some vampires, get back our Patrick and maybe order some pizza on the way home. Or Chinese food."

"Get back our Patrick," Pete repeated, almost dreamily, even as he cracked his knuckles in preparation. "Yeah, that's. That's a plan. We should totally follow this plan, and get back our Patrick."

"As far as plans go, it's a nice one," a female voice called out sweetly and a small figure stepped from behind the wide columns of the gate. A young lady with blonde hair and calm eyes gazed at them.

"Fuck, Greta," Joe muttered, arming his rifle quickly.

"Why, yes please," Greta said in that sugary tone, brushing her fingers over the frilly edges of her sleeves. She looked so harmless in her light dress, her face and smile welcoming. Andy's hands tightened around the handles of his weapons.

"Hey, Greta," Pete said in a jocular tone, sticking his hands in the pocket of his hooded jacket. "What's shaking? I didn't know this was Vampire Hill."

Greta shrugged, her smile never changing in its sweet intensity. Her fangs were quite exposed, but it didn't change the effect at all. Andy often said that they'd be fools to underestimate a vampire like her; he reasoned that she was probably the oldest one they had on this side of the planet, and the most likely reason for her longevity was the fact that no-one believed she was capable of brutality.

"I was thinking," Greta said slowly, as if the idea was dawning on her, "how about we call a truce for tonight?"

"Right," Andy said, twirling a blade. "Because we look like we're idiots."

"Please don't make me verify that." Her little smile still remained in its mild state. "Our people are very sick, and your chemist is close to a cure. It's almost ready, and when it is, you'll get him back in one piece. Hopefully."

"He's... he's making one for you?" Pete looked incredulous. "What did you do to him?"

"He's fine." Greta's peaceful expression now gained a terrible edge. "But try and remove him before he's finished our cure, and you might have to bring him home in a bag." There was a slight rustling, as if the wind was hurrying quietly through the trees, and they were surrounded by vampires. Hundreds of them, all from different clans as far as Pete could smell, standing and watching them with shining eyes.

"As I was saying," she continued with a smug grin as they stood close together, defensively. "Truce?"

 

* * *

"This is the final batch. It's all ready," Patrick said, holding up a tall, slender glass beaker, swirling the blue liquid within before setting it down at the end of a long line of similarly filled beakers. He had been given a lot to work with. "It wasn't too hard, all I did was modify Pete's formula--"

"Why does he take that?" Travis demanded, coming close with his eyes fixed on the potion. Patrick hesitated.

"Pete hates being a vampire," he said softly, letting Travis take hold of the tall jar. "He hates having the thirst."

"That's because he doesn't know how to control it," Travis said, but it didn't sound as condescending as Patrick was expecting it should. He just sounded matter-of-fact. "He could have learned how, if he really wanted."

"If he did, then I wouldn't have known how to help you," Patrick pointed out. Travis considered this, and then gave him a slow nod. "I still need to test this."

Travis put down the beaker and took off his jacket. He held out his arm. "Test it on me."

"You're infected too." Patrick stated more than asked this, watching Travis nod slowly. "How... how do you know?"

"You feel it. Creeping all over you, like ants under your skin. At least, that's how it feels to me." He jerked his head in the direction of the aimless vampires in the back-area. "After a few weeks, you get like that, moving around like some doped up slug. A week or two after _that_ , you just... become dust." Travis licked at his dry lips and then lifted one shoulder in a quick shrug. "Some vampires live through it. Most don't. You never know when you might be affected. I passed through six infections like these, but it got me this time."

Patrick stared at him for a long time, and then moved to fill a clean syringe with the blue formula. "It's supposed to take immediate effect, since I'm putting it directly in your bloodstream. Pete doesn't like needles, so he drinks his, and it takes longer." He continued to chatter briskly as he prepared the skin on the inside of Travis' elbow. "It's going to hurt a little," he warned. "Or a lot."

"Fuck," Travis groaned and shook his head at the pain. He kept his arm completely still however, and Patrick made sure the complete dosage was given. "Ow."

"You'll probably have a huge headache, but that's just a side-effect." He disposed of the syringe in a silver trash-can, and looked at Travis, who sat down heavily on a stool. "Hey. Hey, you ok?"

"Still feels fucked up... wait." Travis blinked rapidly, and squeezed his eyes shut. "I think. Yeah, feels a little better, Red." He opened his eyes and smiled slowly. "Well. I thought you went and poisoned my ass."

"I could have," Patrick said and realised that he hadn't even _thought_ of that. He had just gone to work, and saved a fucking vampire's life; a whole _bunch_ of them. Patrick Stump, Idiot Chemist. Granted, he did have a tall vampire with taller hair threaten him, but still. He could have bravely refused.

"The side effects might pop up in a few," he said stiffly, feeling a little exasperated with himself. He simply wasn't a brave kind of guy. "Like problems with vision and smell. Stuff like that."

"Ok." Travis tilted his head from side to side and wiggled his fingers. It seemed he was delighted with whatever result this gave, for his smile was supremely relieved.

"Ok. Cool. You can, you know. Release me. I held up my end of the deal."

"You... you did good," Travis said in a very serious tone. "Thank you. We won't forget. And trust me, vampires have very long memories."

"Sure. Can we go back to being enemies now? This chummy atmosphere is kind of confusing."

"No problem. But first," and here Travis advanced on him with a dangerous light in his eyes, "I have my end of the bargain to fulfil."

"What?" Patrick backed away, knocking over a couple of stools. His back hit the wall and Travis was on him, taking his face by the chin and tilting it to one side. "No, _nonono_ , you fucking promised--"

"Relax, Red." Travis' voice was as soothing as a lullaby. Patrick felt his whole body simply relax, the tense knots that had dominated his shoulders as he worked now unravelling completely. "I'm not going hurt you, man."

"Don't... don't turn me," Patrick murmured, looking up out of the corner of his eyes. Travis' fingers tightened a little around his chin and Patrick let out a shaky exhale.

"Would that be so bad?" Travis rubbed his thumb contemplatively along the line of Patrick's jaw. "That wouldn't be so bad, you know."

Patrick's eyes fluttered shut, and he breathed slowly, waiting for the sharp press of teeth against his neck. He didn't have any of that counteractive formula in his system. If Travis decided to turn him how, he'd be living his life as a bloodsucker in a few minutes.

"I'm not going to turn you," Travis told him and Patrick licked his lips, too relieved to say anything. "But I have to mark you. Make sure everyone knows you're under my protection from now on."

Patrick's eyes flew open and met Travis'. Their faces were close together, and Patrick could see his long, dark lashes. They stared at each other for a long time; and then Patrick nodded, slowly.

He didn't expect Travis to bend his head and kiss him quickly, and so he opened his mouth in shock, feeling the sharp edges of the retracted teeth scrape against his lips. He moaned around an invading tongue, the kiss deepening wildly, and before he could wrap his arms around Travis' neck and ask for more, Travis pulled his face away with a low, tortured sound and bit him.

Patrick cried out, grabbing handfuls of Travis' shirt and arching up, really hating his height for the first time in a long while. He stood on his tiptoes, back curved as sharp teeth sank into his neck. Travis' arms were wrapped tightly around him, holding him close. It didn't feel like any other bite Patrick had ever received before, and he'd taken a few in his time. Where those had felt like bits of his soul had been shredded away from his being, this felt as if he was being was _given_ something. Making some sort of impression.

Travis released him suddenly and staggered away. Patrick reached for him, almost by reflex, and he stepped back even further, his eyes wide.

"Done," he said faintly, looking away. He folded his lips in and blinked, seeming to feel as dazed as Patrick felt. "You can. Yeah, you can go now."

"Come back," Patrick said without thinking, his voice raspy and strangely compelling; Travis actually took a step forward before he realised what he was doing.

"Get out of here." Travis' voice was low, but Patrick still heard him. He was clenching his fists at his sides. "Get out, Red. Before you get into something you're not sure you even want."

Patrick opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ , but instead let out, "Two doses a day for everyone, just for one day. I made enough, and um. Remember you have a second dose," in a clinical tone before he spun on his heel and walked towards the stairs, climbing up the main level unsteadily. There were vampires treading softly behind him, and more melted out of the shadows to pull open the double entry doors, giving him respectful nods. Patrick suddenly felt exhausted, which was kind of weird, because he was quite used to concocting huge batches of strange medicine in the middle of the night, but being kidnapped might have had something to do with it.

And being kissed breathless and finding out that maybe he wanted something he would never have.

He barely noticed that the doors of the vehicle being pulled open and when he stumbled, a hand was politely at his arm, steadying him. He rubbed at his neck absently, and when they arrived at the gate at the bottom of the hill, he blinked at the large crowd waiting there. They parted, letting the vehicle through the gates at the bottom of the hill, where it came to a stop.

"Patrick!" Joe was running over to him as soon as he stepped out of the high truck, grabbing onto Patrick's hand and dragging him away. The vampires did not move as he was pulled back to his unit.

"Matt?" he rasped as he saw the familiar face of the werewolf. "What are you doing here?"

Matt gave him a welcoming grin, opening his mouth to probably say something crazy and drive Andy up the wall; he went still, pulling in a sharp breath. He stared at Patrick, and then turned to give Pete a long, questioning look. Patrick looked down at his hands, suddenly feeling extremely guilty as Pete stepped closer, reaching out to touch Patrick and hesitating before he could make contact.

"Shit," he heard Pete say.

"What?" Joe's arm was now slung around his shoulders, patting him gently, the way one would do a small crying child. "What is it? Hey, where did they go?"

Patrick chanced a quick look around; the silent mass of vampires was gone, presumably up the hill. Patrick really hoped he had made enough, and then felt a little curl of anticipation at the thought of Travis wanting him to come back, to make more.

"He's been marked," Pete said in a curiously flat voice. "He's... we're forbidden."

Andy's sharp gaze snapped from between Pete's closed face to Patrick's down-turned one. "Forbidden from what?"

Pete waved his arm at Patrick, and his whole body shook with the movement. "Forbidden to touch. Forbidden to take. Jesus, Patrick. You _wanted_ him to mark you."

Patrick's head flew up, meeting Pete's gaze angrily, and then tightening his lips at the betrayed expression. "I didn't have a choice," he said tightly. "I had to make a potion to help them, probably it might do _you_ some good too, sooner or later, and this was my payment."

"But, _I'm_ touching him," Joe said in confusion, his arm still around Patrick, who leaned against him gratefully. Joe squeezed again and Patrick just wanted him to keep doing that patting thing forever, it was really good for his frazzled state of mind.

"It's against other vampires," Andy said slowly. "Patrick's been claimed."

Everyone looked at Pete, who was staring off into space, his eyes dark and dangerously serene.

"Who was it, Patrick?" His voice cut through the night air and Patrick flinched.

"McCoy."

Pete nodded slowly, and then returned his unsettlingly calm stare to Patrick again; the corners of his mouth twitched in the corners, a sad smile. He tried to touch Patrick again, and sighed when he couldn't go any further. "I'm really glad you're safe, Patrick," he muttered. "But this fucking sucks."

"I'm sorry," Patrick said, his voice earnest, wanting to convince Pete out loud and maybe himself as well; because somewhere deeply secretive in his heart, he wasn't sorry at all. "I really am, I just... it couldn't be helped."

Pete smiled again, a better effort this time, but his eyes were still mournful and knowing. Patrick had an idea that he knew the exact location of where Patrick hid his secret. "I know, Patrick. I know."

"We should head on home," Joe said after a long silence. "Get some rest. It'll be okay tomorrow. I mean, later, it's tomorrow already."

"You're not sleeping in my room," Andy said just as Matt opened his mouth. "Don't even think about it."

"Spoilsport," Matt muttered under his breath, and Andy shot him a narrow-eyed glare. They were bickering even as Pete pulled away from the gate. Patrick was trapped between the two of them in the wide back-seat as they argued back and forth across him, dredging up old arguments and rehashing personal hurts; he turned his head and looked out the back window, completely unsurprised to see a tall figure leaning against one of the gate-columns, arms folded.

Patrick pressed his fingers against the bite-marks in his neck and felt it tingle. He turned back around, meeting Pete's eyes in the rear-view mirror.

Pete's gaze was carefully shuttered and he looked away, returning his attention to taking them home.

_fin_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I Don't Blame You For Being You, But You Can't Blame Me For Hating It](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3548456) by [btBatt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/btBatt/pseuds/btBatt)




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